


Futility

by anysin



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Insomnia, M/M, Nightmares, Threats, Triangle Bill Cipher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 14:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19395673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anysin/pseuds/anysin
Summary: Ford tries to write a letter to Stan. Bill interrupts.





	Futility

Ford is trying to write a letter.

He can’t even get started. Part of it is because he’s writing to Stan, brother he hasn’t seen in years; he simply has no idea how to address Stan anymore, how to get him to understand his situation. But most of all Ford is tired, so tired that trying to focus on something makes him more tired still. And when he gets tired, Bill arrives.

“Aww, what’s the matter, Fordsy? Lifting a pen is too hard for you?”

He can already hear Bill’s mocking words in his mind, see the amusement in his eye. That’s what spurs Ford to action, this time: he grabs his pen and starts to draft a letter, going straight to the point about the portal and what Stan needs to do. The two of them can do pleasantries later, once the threat has been eliminated. They can-

Ford starts when he hears the tip of the pen snap apart, bouncing up from his desk. He had almost nodded off, in mid-thought; he is in worse shape than he had thought. This time, there is no mistaking the faint echo of Bill’s laughter in the back of his mind, where sleep already lurks.

Shivering, he gets up, walking around in order to wake himself up properly. But by the time he sits back down, the exhaustion is deep in his bones again, and he knows he will doze off again before he even finishes his letter.

“Except you’re already asleep,” Bill says, and Ford groans as he opens his eyes in the Mindscape.

“Damn you.” He swings his fist at Bill, knowing damn well he is going to miss. Even in dreams, he is tired. “This won’t change anything, you know. I’ll just try again!”

Bill laughs, as he always does, ducking his fist with ease. He circles around Ford, sweeping close to him from behind.

“Of course you will, you stubborn mule.” Bill reaches out to ruffle his hair, laughing a little more as Ford twists away from his touch. “And it will continue to be completely pointless, because I’ll keep coming back too! And let’s face it, Fordsy, there is only one being among us with endless willpower and it sure as hell isn’t you!”

Ford hisses, letting his fist fly again; this time, Bill doesn’t even bother to move, simply letting the blow sail past his side. He drifts into Ford’s personal space, stretching out his arms so he can rest his hands on Ford’s shoulders.

“You know damn well you’re losing this fight,” Bill says, stroking Ford’s collarbones through his shirt. The touch makes Ford squirm, but he doesn’t have the strength to fight it; he lets it continue, standing there slack and defeated. “Your brother isn’t going to arrive. You’re not going to dismantle the portal. It’s only matter of time until you come crawling back to me, Stanford, and I’ll be more than happy to welcome you back.”

“Never!” Ford tries to step away now, but Bill’s hands grow larger, snatching him tighter. Ford’s own hands fly up to grab Bill from his wrists, pulling at them hard; they don’t even budge.

“Come on, you know I don’t like that word.” Bill tugs him forward, so he can bring his eye close to Ford’s face. “I could make it disappear from your vocabulary altogether, you know. Along with other inconvenient words like ‘no’ and ‘don’t’ and such things. Do you want me to do that?”

Ford shudders. “You wouldn’t.”

“'Wouldn’t’, that’s another one that would have to go.” Ford sees a third hand extend out from Bill’s side, and soon feels it come rest down on the side of his face, the thumb stroking over the cheekbone. “My point is, Ford, that you can’t escape me. I’m in your dreams this time because I chose to, but I could easily just snatch your hot little bod. I can make you do whatever I want, baby, whenever I want, until the end of time. Just try to oppose m-”

A loud crash starts Ford awake, leaving him gasping for breath.

He is back in his chair, back by his unfinished letter; he hasn’t written a word on it. He gets up to hurry to the kitchen, where he suspects a pile of dirty plates has mercifully fallen over.

In the end, he writes only two words to Stan.

“PLEASE COME.”

He hopes it will be enough to save him.


End file.
